Swaying Dogma
by Loving Companion Cube
Summary: VtR: Detective Lee Smith investigates a strange series of murders in Virgina, the same pattern of a serial killer in 1968 from Glasgow. Never solved, the prime suspect serves a life imprisonment but his guilt was never proven. Betareader: Ivy
1. Mother Glasgow

Hollow footsteps echoed through the small empty church which was only lit faintly by candles around the altar, reaching the bloodied and crucified Lord like the damned begging for salvation in his light. Father Walker knew there were many damned; some were even more damned than man could imagine. Sadly only a few of them wanted guidance and salvation.

_Here's the bird that never flew._

However Father Walker was strong in his belief in the Lord and his promise, his endless mercy, to redeem even the most hideous fiend if he made penance for his sins and even in his small, old church on the outskirts of Glasgow he could feel the crushing weight of emptiness in the vast surreal space, watching the flames dancing whenever a draught hit them, forcing the fire out of balance. The rustling of his cassock was the only sound during the night here as he passed the glazed figures on the stained glass, showing different scenes from the Bible, but for him, there was only one essential moment holding on.

_Here's the tree that never grew._

He passed the heavy wooden benches, continuing his way to the altar where the crucified Lord was shown in his pain to atone for the sins of humanity. For such a small church it was spiked with treasures which were eligible for a cathedral, however only a few trained eyes could spot them and no one would dare to take those away. Only if it were the will of the Lord Almighty.

_Here's the bell that never rang._

Father Walker was not very tall, but average and in his late thirties. Blond, straight combed hair and steel blue eyes. Often people said he could belong to the Vikings if he were to put down his cassock and priestly white collar, and time and again Father Walker was more affronted than flattered to be compared to those heathens. Surely, he didn't exactly look like a Scotsman but he'd never left Glasgow his entire life. He was born here and he would stay here forever. Even in death.

_Here's the fish that never swam._

Finally reaching the altar, his hand extended towards a golden chalice as the small door of the church was opened – allowing a strong breeze to invade the holy house and spurring the dance of the flames as Father Walker lifted his head, but didn't turn around as another pair of footsteps echoed through the building. They stopped at a specific distance.

"Bishop, I bring you the news that Bible John has resurged." It was not _Father_ but _Bishop_. Like the flames in the wind, now his dance would begin like every night and continue on.

"Where?" The question was curt, however the whelp could be glad and kiss the spear for him to be addressed by him. He didn't even know the name of the Neonate, however he was sure that it was a Neonate of the Lancea Sanctum.

"Virginia, United States. They sent a policeman here to investigate the old cases." That however was definitely something the Bishop did not want. Mortal beings sniffing around in the affairs of Kindred was a danger to the Masquerade. Humans were only food, though if they were meant to rule above the humans God wouldn't have made it so _hard_.

"Bring me all the necessary information according to this...policeman and the occurrence in Virginia. Ask our Nosferatu for assistance." He took down the crucifix from his neck and dipped it into the red liquid inside the chalice.

"Yes, your Excellency." Without doubt the Archbishop would ask about this during the Synod. _'Wasn't this falling into your domain? You didn't take care of it, Bishop!'_ Father – as he was known among the mortals – Richard Walker restrained an angry snarl. As a Ventrue his rise through the ranks of the Covenant was regarded with a lot of suspicion, especially by the Archbishop who was a Mekhet. Weren't they all from the same Covenant? Did their clan or bloodline really matter in the eyes of God? Does it matter who spread _The Testament of Longinus_ among the Kindred? Naturally the ambition of his clan burned in his veins.

"Now leave." Soon the Priests would arrive for the midnight mass they were to hold, to give all the lost lambs guidance in their Requiem. The bloodied crucifix was lifted to his mouth as he opened it to lick the thick, sweet vitae from it. His sharp fangs scratched over the surface of the golden object, producing a sound he so much enjoyed. Like a spear's sharp and pointy peak scratching over bones. Did it sound the same as Longinus' pierced through the holy flesh of the Lord's body, his lip tasting one drop of the holy blood that turned him into the first of their kind? Longinus was the first Vampire, so the Lancea Sanctum believed, so the Bishop Richard Walker believed with all the passion a dead man could have, for he was one of the damned among the damned. Walking death to show humans that there were forces of God on earth to show them how hell could taste. It was never too late to turn back to the Lord, receiving his all-engulfing mercy.

And the flames danced once more, as the door of the old church was shut once more – the church which was built on his behalf – beneath the suffering Lord. He was one of those flames. So close to salvation, yet so far away and with every night he skulked amongst the living it dragged him further away from God's eternal garden of Eden. But this was the will of God and God's will was absolute.

_Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done._

The chalice was placed back on the altar, now empty again. Only Bishop Walker knew that he stored vitae in it for later use. He had placed many such secret vitae reliquaries in his church; however he needed to take care of this Bible John issue before the Synod was called or at least have enough to calm the Archbishop. To tell him that he didn't have to worry about anything and that it was preposterous to think the Masquerade would be violated. He was old enough to remember the 600-year-long reign of the Inquisition.

And so, for another night Bishop Richard Walker prepared himself for his own Danse Macabre.

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AN: Short introduction, because I don't want to give away everything, right? So welcome to the new World of Darkness folks. I hope this story will show you that it is in no way inferior to the oWoD and Vampire the Masquerade. It's just different.


	2. Lowlander

**Thank you Zaekka, sister-b, Silas Goodwill, Nazebrax, rednightmare, Vivienne S. and dropletsoflight for the reviews! Believe me this story will get a very different touch!**

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Flying. Not that he was scared to fly in a metal object stuffed full of humans and packages in its belly, no. It was the airsickness and Lee thought he just threw up his lunch from elementary school.

"We're arriving soon, just drink enough." At least the friendly stewardess gave him a smile and patted his shoulder to cheer him up, however he simply felt like shit as a new message from his wife was announced by his cell. Yes, the on-board rules had said to shut it off while in flight, but honestly Lee didn't care at the moment. Being a detective meant making sure the law hadn't been violated and not some business rules.

_From: Miranda_

_Hello honey! Just got up. Hope you're fine!_

Right. He'd had to depart in the middle of the friggin' night just to arrive in Glasgow by noon, because it was five hours ahead. Miranda knew he was going to get airsick and he'd declined to take any medicine in advance.

_To: Miranda_

_Totally. The food is not that bad. Landing soon._

As if he would grant her the satisfaction of being right. He'd get that served back to him over and over again the next fifty years of his life. So he turned off his cell phone, as his very charming seat neighbour gave him an annoyed gaze. It had been decided that the taxpayer shouldn't be bothered to pay for a first-class trip, even if Lee would have accepted it silently and with glee. Now he had to squeeze his legs between the slim space of his seat and one in front of him, but in consideration of the soon-to-happen landing the detective decided to get a bit of refreshment (additionally getting rid of the airsickness bag with his elementary school lunch).

He was glad to discover that the toilets were vacant and slipped into the small cabinet, locking the door behind him shut. His mirror-self looked terrible. Skin sickly pale and sweaty, dark rings beneath the brown eyes and his short-cut brown hair shimmered greasily. _'I look like a ghost.' _What a nice first impression he'd make when meeting his Scottish colleagues. Sure he still maintained a broad physique from his days as a former football player in college; however Lee now looked like a picture of misery, thanks to his cursed airsickness, and more like a sixty-year-old man than someone in his early thirties. With a defeated sigh Lee tossed the bag he'd brought with him into the bin and turned the faucet on, letting cold, refreshing water pour over his hands. Originally he'd planned to flip through the files about the case during the flight, but that was obviously not happening. Cupped hands caught the clear water, bringing it to Lee's sweaty face and washing it clean. It felt invigorating, and upon holding his head beneath the jet of water it lifted the dizzying cloud which had lingered around his head a bit right after takeoff. Too bad he hadn't a towel anywhere near, only the thin paper towels which ripped apart when rubbed over his skin, because of the stubble on his face.

"Screw this…" he mumbled and threw the remains into the bin, dabbing the water from his neck. It could only get better when he was out of the plane, on steady ground and finally able to get some food back into the empty hole he called a stomach. Yeah, things would most certainly go better and he felt a bit more refreshed, less miserable as he returned to his seat and saw the light indicating that they were at the landing approach. A fine voice from one of the stewardesses announced the current weather in Glasgow: cold, damp and rainy. As if Lee had expected otherwise during winter. Richmond wasn't exactly a shining example of warm weather during the winter days, though it was snowier and not as wet. Ah well he was here to work and not for a vacation, sitting most of the day in a police station reading files, so screw the weather. Lee was not as sure about what would happen when he actually got permission to talk to the prisoner they suspected to be Bible John. Not that the guy would run somewhere any time soon, serving a life sentence, but there was so little information about him that it was nearly suspicious. Then again these weren't the States and his chief already warned him that things were handled quite differently over the pond. Yeah, he'd see. Naturally things were different in a different country, so Lee hadn't expected things to roll like they did in Richmond and he felt more concerned about having to be on-duty without a gun. _'You're too nervous about this.' _Most certainly. He felt a bit uncomfortable with this assignment, because there were more experienced detectives than him available but still the chief insisted on sending him.

As announced during the flight, Glasgow was a damp city and slightly oppressive. A feeling Lee couldn't quite explain. Instead he pulled his jacket a bit tighter around him and found himself wondering if there was someone coming to pick him up or if he had to find his own way to the hotel and police station. Not that he wasn't expected. Being a grown-up didn't mean you stopped getting a little uncomfortable when wandering around in a foreign city on a different continent. But upon spotting a person holding up a sign with his name the concerns were washed away.

"Detective Lee Smith?" the man asked as he approached, speaking with the typical British accent. Lee simply nodded and reached out a hand which was grabbed. He had expected a Scottish accent like Groundskeeper Willie from _The Simpsons_ had.

"Inspector Charles Freeman. I'm your helpful guide if you need one." The inspector was apparently in his late fifties, older than Lee himself, wearing glasses and with hair grey like his beard. Still he had an observant glimmer in his green eyes. "I hope you don't mind showing me your papers first?"

"No, of course not." Security and to make certain he wasn't picking up the wrong person, so Lee showed his badge and ID and the inspector nodded.

"Do you want to directly proceed to action or first go to the hotel? No offense detective, but you're not looking very well." So much for his cover of at least _trying_ to look as if he went through the flight unharmed.

"Seems like my cover's been blown. A shower and new set of clothes would really boost my mood." With a friendly smile, the inspector patted his shoulder and led them to the car.

It really did boost Lee's mood. After getting his desired shower and changing, Freeman picked him up in the hotel lobby for dinner. Scottish food was quite good.

"I've brought you some files I was able to get my hands on about the old case. So, how did the idea come up that your murders could be linked to Bible John?" Even Lee had to admit it was a very vague theory they were working on, but it was the only lead at the moment.

"The victims were two women during menstruation." That sausage was fairly interesting but very good. "All had visited a club in the evening or a disco. Strangled and all the evidence we found was a Bible verse." Freeman frowned.

"Bible John never left any verses behind at the scene of a murder. That's not fitting into the pattern." Point taken, but still the others fit and the goal was to compare information only the murderer could have that was not given out to the press.

"Yeah, but we want proof if he's the real deal or just a copy cat; perhaps he doesn't even know that he's copying someone. All the verses dealt with Sodom and Gomorrah, First Book of Moses. We think he's on some kind of fanatical trip, cleansing the city of sinners." Lee took another bite of the meat.

"So what are those verses? Bible John was said to quote from Moses, but this could still be an imposter. It is public knowledge." The Scottish police were very doubtful that the cases in Virginia were connected to theirs, since they'd had someone arrested. It was a sort of police honour they had to lose. Naturally Lee knew there would be resistance and a lot of questions.

"Genesis 13, 13: Now the men of Sodom were wicked and were sinning greatly against the Lord; and Genesis 18, 26: The Lord said: 'If I find fifty righteous people in the city of Sodom, I will spare the whole place for their sake.' That is why our most logical theory is for a fanatical cleanse. And that is why I'm here to prove what we have in Richmond. No offense, inspector. I do not doubt the Scottish police's ability. I'm here because I need your help."

"Mhmmm…" The older man scratched his beard, looking thoughtful. "The files I've given you are the official ones. It'll take some time to gain permission for the confidential ones. I hope you have time to wait until then, detective." For more Lee couldn't have asked. It was advancement and he maybe had time to visit those who were still alive and had worked on the case.

"Thank you. I'll help. Is it also possible for me to ask those who were on the case at the time?" Just to get some gist of it.

"Yes. You can find their names in the archives in Strathclyde at Maryhill Road and their residences from the secretary there, but I have to warn you: She's quite a dragon." He chuckled and finished his meal.

"So what did you order us? It was good." Lee was also about to be ready, taking the napkin to clean the corners of his mouth.

"Traditional Scottish cuisine: Haggis. Heart, liver and lungs from a sheep with minced onion, oatmeal and suet." The man glanced through his thick glasses and grinned widely as Lee stopped his action and stared at his empty dish, but then shrugged.

"It was good anyway. I'll take some tomorrow too." The lunches at some diners in the States were way worse and often not nearly as identifiable.

"That's the spirit, young man! Now shall we proceed to action?" Even if Lee was tired, he could rest later. Hopefully he hadn't forgotten to phone Miranda.

The rest of the day was spent with all of the stuff they skipped in crime series on TV: plain and boring paperwork. However he was able to find out the names of the policemen who were still alive and had been involved in the Bible John case. It was nearly dark here in Glasgow and despite Inspector Freeman being his contact here, the man had his own cases to solve and didn't hover around Lee like a fly, for which he was thankful. All in all his Scottish colleagues were very cooperative when he wasn't asking specifically about the locked information, which made Lee's suspicious nature even more suspicious. On the other hand he could be over-thinking it again. Reversing the situation, with it being his department which had those files and a Scottish inspector or whatever waltzing in: How would they react? Probably not much differently. Still he had time to visit one of the retired policemen who didn't live far away from the Strathclyde Police Department and was even locatable without Freeman. He could visit others but they were far away from the city central and that far he didn't want to venture alone on his first day, even if he could take one of the black taxis.

Outside it was raining and cold, and again the strange anxious feeling crawled up his throat. He felt like someone had been observing him after he stepped out of the police station. The streets were still frequented by and full of people, and he was unable to shoo away the feeling of invisible eyes on his back. It was not typical for him but he got a bit nervous, glancing over his shoulder, pulling his beloved Richmond Renegade cap deeper onto his face and leaving behind his plan of waving for taxi he hopped into one of the crowded buses as the feeling disappeared. Lee could feel cold sweat on his skin where the rain hadn't reached his clothes. His breath was heavy and hectic. _'I need some sleep.' _Still his hackles had risen as he felt watched during the ride, nerves tied up in knots and every time a sudden move or sound was made from the other passengers he'd jerk his head into their direction. The bus slowly emptied more and more and Lee watched his surroundings like a hawk. With every leaving passenger the paranoid feeling also went out, making him realise how stupid his behaviour was. Most certainly he was in desperate need of sleep. Where the hell was he heading anyway? He'd sat in the bus for a good amount of time already.

"Sorry, where does this line go?" Of course the first thing to do was get up from the back seat and ask the bus driver.

"East Fulton. It's terminus there, sir. You'll have to leave the bus then." Oh great, where was that on his map? Lee's finger searched the map for the destination where he'd end up. Well he could still call a taxi but for that he needed to know where he was at all. Thankfully the driver was kind enough to show him where his little unfortunate trip was ending and it was still raining when he reached East Fulton. Finding shelter beneath a roof, he had no doubt he'd just landed in the middle of nowhere as far as he could judge it. A lot of greenery, acres and some nice houses. Given different circumstances – and daylight – he could have enjoyed the view but as for now Lee simply wanted to go to bed. Pulling out his cell, he began to dial the number to call a taxi but then stopped. Again he had that anxious feeling. Everything was somehow darker. The artificial light of the bus station he stood beneath flickered as his head jerked up. In the corner of his eye he could see something moving, or so he thought. Like a shadow.

"Is someone there?" The words echoed out into the darkness, over the street and remained unanswered, lights flickering as a heavy wooden object hit his head, causing him to see stars and stumble forward as his cell fell to the ground. Everything in his head was spinning, unable to react properly to this situation even if a voice inside it was desperately screaming at him to stand up. He was only able to feel a burning pain on the back of his head, throbbing and sending waves of faintness through his limbs. In such a condition a human was helpless, alone, not even able to scream as a second bash to his head knocked the consciousness out of Detective Smith's body.

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AN: I've never been in Glasgow so to search all the locations up was a pain in the butt. I really hope I got them all correct. If not feel free to tell me.


	3. Hiob

**Thanks a TON to dropletsoflight, sister-b, Vivienne S. and rednightmare for the reviews! You rock!**

**If you want to have fitting music to this chapter, listen to John Murphy - In the House, in a Heartbeat (28 Days Later soundtrack). In fact, the song suits the mood of the whole story.  
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It felt _cold_. Everything was dark and engulfed in a icy blanket. Lee could hardly even think of anything else besides that as a silent mourn passed his lips, trying to move something which belonged to his numb body. Even as he moved his head he stopped immediately once waves of pain swept through it, nearly knocking the consciousness out of him again. So he lay still on the ground waiting for the numbness to slowly pass out of his frigid, stiff limbs. He knew it wouldn't help if he didn't move. _'Just a second.' _He was so tired. Even the cold raindrops falling down on his face, feeling like hundreds of too-big needles piercing his skin, didn't wash the fog away which coated his senses. Eyelids fluttered, revealing dim light reflected by the wet stones on the ground he laid on, dancing stars and more chilliness creeping into his bones through the water-soaked clothes sticking to his skin, making them useless in preventing the warmth of his body from escaping. Now Lee noticed how frosty he _really _felt. He needed to get up! Aching, he clasped and unclasped his stiff feeling fingers, trying to move his left arm which stubbornly ignored the brain's order; but then the flesh obeyed, touching the sore back of his head and instantly dragging his fingers away as he felt the wound, producing even more searing pain to shake his freezing body. One might think that as a detective he would have experience in being beaten, but as usual the normal, real life detective work wasn't the same as that shown in Hollywood productions. Even in the States.

Limbs protesting, Lee pulled himself together and lifted his body up slowly from the ground, another wave of cold pouring into every corner of his being accompanied by a threatening curtain of darkness fogging his vision. He slumped back to the ground, the rain drumming mercilessly down on him while he breathed heavily. The second attempt was more successful as he raised himself up steadily, taking his time and finally was able to capture his situation once he didn't get up to his feet, instead sitting with his back leaning against the pole of the bus station sign. First thing to come into the detective's mind was his cell and to call – well – the police; however there was no cell to be spotted by his searching eyes. _'Oh shit…'_ His hand reached inside his jacket for his wallet and badge. Gone. Raising his left hand to the level of his face, Lee cursed. Even his wedding ring was gone. Stolen. No cell, no money, no nothing in a foreign city in a foreign land in the middle of the night.

"This couldn't have gone worse." Mumbling to himself, Lee gradually tried to get on his feet, teeth chattering as his senses became more and more clear and with them the question of how long he had actually been unconscious, the only wild guess that it must have been quite some time. That question aside, Lee could ponder his main problem: getting back to the hotel. The map he was carrying in his pocket was now totally useless, and besides walking through the rain with a terribly aching head was not by any means possible. Without his cell and money he couldn't even call the police or Inspector Freeman. Should he try his luck at some random house of the local inhabitants? Well, better than sitting around in the rain doing nothing. His best bet was to rely on the kindness of another human. Cautiously he rose to his feet, letting a few seconds pass as the black curtain made an attempt to cover his senses once more, but managed to shove it aside faster this time as he started to stagger to the left, down the road. As if it would matter to consider which way to choose at all. Lee needed to warm up his stiff limbs, even if he knew that it was completely in vain as long as he wasn't able to get dry clothes. Coldness, moisture and the headache were his greatest concerns at the moment, and he wrapped his arms around himself with the sound of falling rain and chattering teeth his only company, as well as the anxiety he had felt before. Lee shoved it aside, blaming it on the bad day he'd had. Why should a bad start end good? He wasn't a Negative Nelly but his mood at the moment was below zero, and feeling way too exhausted to actually be angry he simply wanted to end this, regretting not having gone straight back to the hotel.

At the first house he rang, nobody opened up. Bad luck and no one was home, so Lee tried another further down the road. Again no reaction which slowly let the emotion of fear crawl back up Lee's throat, throttling his breath, making his mouth dry and shoving despair into his thoughts. Only two. There was no reason to give up yet even with heavy feet and an aching head. Things could be worse, like having a knife sticking in his chest, lying on the curb while bleeding to death. It was a result he'd often witnessed in his job in the next morning so he considered himself lucky despite the circumstances, though he still felt like _someone _was watching him from the dark, invisible eyes following his movements. Turning around, the detective stared into a nearby bush cradled by the wind and with water dropping from its leaves. Nothing. _'Stress. It's the stress.' _Cold air filled his cold lungs, as he breathed like a marathon runner to calm himself and continue his search, feet heavy as lead as a light to the left caught his attention. A single building surrounded by nothing but acres and some trees but there was light. Where light was, there were people. To his right was another road leading to more houses, and strangely those houses appeared more eerie to him, desolate and his instincts told him to go to the building on his left. Lee listened to his instincts and the logical conclusion obviously spoke for itself, even if the lonely house was further away and what awaited surprised him nonetheless. He'd anticipated a house, plain and simple but not a goddamn – pardon the pun – house of God! The light he saw from the distance across the fields illuminated the black cross, which was mounted above the entrance from below, casting a long shadow across the old-looking stones of the wall giving a slight presence of God's majesty even if it was a small building for the Lord's worshippers. Ironically Lee had never been a believer, just a Christian on paper and more than leery of the entire sermon the church gave. Indeed he was a bit biased towards the case of Bible John – seeing religion as also being a very dangerous idea – and his opinion on the topic had been reinforced, yet now his hope relied on the very religion he considered dangerous in some way. Oh the bitter irony. Lee couldn't help but shake his head which naturally hurt and reminded him to stop standing dumbfounded in front of the church before he froze to death. It was winter. A somewhat depressing time of year which could also be responsible for his strange paranoia, that feeling of being watched from the shadows.

His shivering, pale hand knocked against the heavy dark brown wooden door, producing a sound which echoed through the night. Waiting for an answer he then knocked again, before grabbing the door handle and opening it. It was really open! A sweep of relief flooded through his body as he stepped into the building and away from the drumming rain, leaving puddles of water tracing his way. Lee only briefly gazed at the name plate outside, stating that this was the Chapel of St. Mary. A mumbled, "Whoa," passed his lips, and rubbing his hands together he spotted a person in the vivid light. It was a man, wearing a business suit. Okay that was kind of out of place, however finally another person in this empty town!

"Excuse me for barging in, sir. I was beaten down and robbed. Need to make a call to the police if it's possible." Emerging in front of the man, Lee got a better sight of him. Young – no more than thirty – with a somehow snobby looking expression on his clean shaven face and pretty much no reaction to Lee's peril. "Sorry if I'm bothering you but do you have a cell? Really I don't intend to rob you now, you can even make the call okay? I'm Detective Lee Smith. The police will confirm this." The man bluntly stared into his eyes and Lee's eyebrow lifted. Was something wrong with this guy?

"_Sleep_." A simple word, stressed in a strange manner and for a second the detective blinked in confusion. Yes, he was tired. Of course he was but he couldn't sleep yet. However his eyelids ignored his efforts to keep them open, starting to flutter and then staying shut. He felt how his body slumped to the ground and slumber carried all his confused thoughts away.

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The chapel was small, not very well-known and perfect for the midnight mass to be held. Bishop Walker couldn't hold it in the same building every time, for the sake of the Masquerade. So he changed the location often, avoiding drawing attention from mortals. He stood in front of the altar, which was decorated with holy symbols of Longinus: the spear, the weapon which pierced through the Lord's flesh, lay beneath the suffering Christ as if he'd been pierced only moments ago, beside it pieces of the armour worn by Roman soldiers at the time along with a chalice of vitae. The Bishop himself was wearing a white alb and a stole with the insignia of the Lancea Sanctum: a cross with a spear and a skull embedded in a black sun, but his white garments weren't white anymore. Red crimson stains tainted the holy cloth, originating from the wheat they'd drained at the beginning of the mass and whose still-warm blood rested in the golden chalice, waiting to be served to the praying. Wheat was the Kindred term for humans when they referred to them as food.

"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth." He was a supporter of the Monachal Creed, the most widely followed one in the Lance, having more in common with the Catholic Church than the other, more 'modern' ones. The Kindred present repeated his words, creating a mumbling chant as the first of them stood up and walked towards the deacon. All his sheep were here and he was satisfied. No more than a dozen because his domain was small, with no important racks anywhere. It didn't satisfy him. It _upset _him. "I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, who was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary to redeem Man from Sin through his death and resurrection." The modest crowd again repeated his words, as the Deacon used a sharp ritual knife to slowly slice open the wrist of the Nosferatu who knelt in front of him and was newly welcomed into the Covenant, offering his arms without hesitation. The vitae poured out of the wound leisurely in thick, red drops and the Nosferatu put his bleeding arm to his mouth, licking the blood from it, as the door opened and his Paladin – his childe – gave him a concerned gaze. Not an anticipated interference. He knew it. Richard knew his childe well enough to decipher the mimic and he wouldn't interrupt his mass if it wasn't urgent. He had better not. A wink was given to the Priest who stood next to the Deacon to continue the mass for him. As the Bishop passed the faithful with shimmying vestments but not radiating haste, more a predatory tranquility, they kept their heads low. Bishop Walker was known for his strict enforcement of rules in terms of respect, nicknamed the Iron Bishop behind his back. As if he wouldn't know this.

"A human," said his childe curtly and in a low voice. Just a human? Why bother him with such nonsense? However the Bishop's face didn't show any reaction.

"Neutralize him." Later he would think of a suitable punishment for William. He expected more individual initiative from his own blood with regard to such unimportant matters. The procedure in such a case was clear.

"Forgive me your Excellency, but with all due respect: Please take a look. It is not some mortal I can dispatch." Richard's eyes narrowed, staring right into the hazel eyes of William. His childe was of a sturdy build, a formal Royal Marine perfectly suited for the task of ensuring his safety but by no means a brainless hulk. Richard didn't like it when his subordinates hadn't imagination and the ability to improvise. So he stepped out of the main hall, into the antechamber. "He said his name was Detective Lee Smith." That caught Richard's attention immediately. His childe was one of his most trusted assets as far as 'trust' could go in Kindred society and he fed William with tidbits of unimportant information so he wouldn't ponder about it. Curiosity was one of the most dangerous habits for neonates and so it was for Lee Smith, just another human to be observed but not killed. But not for Richard. Still his childe would receive punishment for not coming straight to the point. Looking down to the sleeping man at his feet, the Bishop slowly walked around him. Why was he here? This couldn't be a simple accident. Not here, not on the small outskirts of Glasgow. He needed to talk to the human. He didn't have any influence on mortal police, only on the Catholic Church up to one of the Bishops in Glasgow. Venturing further was too risky.

"Call my ghoul. He should bring him into his rectory and take care of him. I'll join after the mass." There was something behind this and Richard grimly suspected that it was a warning from the Archbishop MacKinnon. He knew already and it seemed that Bible John would become a major concern for the ambitions of Bishop Walker.

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AN: I know, there is no chapel in East Fulton (as far as I scanned it from above with Google Earth), but I needed one there so I placed a chapel into 'my' East Fulton.

Rack - a Rack is a restricted feeding ground where it is easy to find prey. Kind of like a Kindred restaurant where only certain people have access to. The Prince - or in this case the Archbishop (the Lancea Sanctum set the Prince here and they always use other terms than secular ones) - grants access to it so they don't become overcrowded, endangering a masquerade violation. In a huge city like Glasgow Bishops also can grant access in their domain to such Racks.


	4. Lucifer

**Thanks to dropletsoflight, sister-b, rednightmareand of course Vivienne S. for the thoughful reviews! It is really good to know that you also enjoy stories out of the Masquerade franchise and give Requiem a chance.**

**And this point some major THANK YOU to Officer Michael, who patiently answered Vivienne's questions about badge IDs and ID numbers, while they arrested some vampire or ghoul who even put up a fight after being teasered, shot and 10 policemen wrestled him down. Dude, YOU ROCK!  
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Sleep was something Lee was in desperate need of. Even if it was against his will it overtook him. However this time the black curtain was more welcoming, more warm, without a dream, silent and relaxing. As his senses returned he realised that the warmth wasn't any prank his mind played on him; no wet clothes were sticking to his skin. Instead it was dry and upon opening his eyes, looking around irritated, the detective was lying in a bed. The blanket slid down from his chest as he slowly lifted his upper body to get a better overview of the current situation. The lamp on the bedside table was illuminated, as it was still dark outside from what Lee was able to judge with a glimpse to the window. He was sitting on a bed which stood next to a wall. The room had the size of a small guest room and was drearily furnished. Besides the bed there was only a table, a drawer, a chair and – Lee raised an eyebrow – a cross above the door.

The back of his head still emitted a painful, rhythmic throb. His body felt weak, exhausted and floppy, telling Lee that he was about to get a cold which was the logical outcome of his predicament moments ago. Again he wondered how long he'd been passed out or slept this time. There was no clock to be found in this room and further inspection of the clothes he was wearing – a plain white t-shirt and shorts – gave him no more clues as to where he exactly was at the moment, but judging by the cross above the door, it wasn't hard to come to a conclusion. _'Charity and benevolence. Seems like it's not only empty preaching, huh?'_ No offense. Lee was grateful that he wasn't disposed of outside in the rain. It's some kind of cynical worldview which accompanied his job too often, taking a glimpse into the dark corners of the human mind. Miranda often told him not to be so pessimistic, only seeing the bad side of people and that not every human being is selfish or heartless. Of course she was right. Somehow. It was never wrong to have a good portion of mistrust ready. Another trait from his job he never could lay down even when he wasn't on duty, evolving to a second nature. That was why he was slightly upset about what happened, the absolutely irrational behaviour which led into this little embarrassment of his, nagging on his pride like an evil, grinning, taunting gremlin. He'd be the laughingstock of the department, not to mention of the media which were circling like vultures around their heads, calling them incompetent fools for not even having a simple clue on the case. And now this stupid mistake on top of everything. As soon as he made the necessary calls there needed to be time to prevent more damage. Losing his badge was, in such a case, not as simple as it may seem; more so how should he explain it properly? _'I got a strange feeling, jumped without a second thought into a random bus and landed in the middle of nowhere and got robbed.'_ Quite a bad explanation, tasting again like incompetence garnished with stupidity.

Lee brushed over his hair, sighing heavily and exhausted as the door opened with a creak, breaking the silence in the room as if the hinges were screaming in agony for some oil and once more Lee's conclusions were right. In the doorframe stood a blond man in his forties – late or early he couldn't judge at the moment – blue eyes and the first remarkable trait was a tiny scar on his upper lip. It was the black cassock, combined with a white priestly collar which proved the detective's theory: he must be in the rectory of the chapel, which was strange. Did chapels even have rectories? To be honest, Lee did not have much knowledge about the church. For Bible John there was a special theology expert hired so they wouldn't miss any important religious reference.

"Pardon my rude intrusion. If I would have known that you're awake, I most certainly would have knocked." Unlike the more aggressive voices of the preachers he knew from church, this man's was soft and friendly; however there was some kind of eerie feeling, making the detective's hackles rise and upon scrutinizing the guy further he looked a bit sickly. Shrunken cheeks and dark circles around the eyes like he hadn't slept for quite some time, the skin slightly pale. Perhaps the priest looked shittier and more dead than Lee during the flight to Glasgow. Still the man's presence brought something formidable along, like an old Viking. Why this thought passed his mind was a puzzle for Lee but it was the first thing which came to it. The silence became uncomfortable and Lee knew it was a bit rude to stare at the priest without a response.

"No...no it's okay. You couldn't have known." Finally the silence was broken with the detective looking at his bed sheets, twitching a shoulder uncomfortably as he could hear how the cassock rustled, implying that the priest moved into the room. That guy gave him the creeps. _'You're behaving irrational again. It's not like every person in the clergy is a paedophilic psycho priest of some sort.'_ Plus he was an adult.

"I have to apologise once more. I know I don't look very healthy. Terminal cancer and the medicaments don't let me look like vivid life. Well then I hope you don't mind talking a bit, do you?" Wooden chair legs moved on carpet and the rustling of the cassock became silent which left him no other choice. Furthermore it would be rude to decline after the hospitality he was given, even more because the priest was quite friendly. Cynic or not, he still retained his sense of common politeness, avoiding to end up as a social outcast which sometimes happened to some co-workers; furthermore the man gained his respect, being deadly sick and still maintaining his faith to such a degree.

"Well, it's the least I could do after picking me up as..." Actually now he remembered the man he met in the chapel, who simply said the word 'sleep' before Lee fell asleep. "...sorry, my mind is a bit blurry."

"Ah yes. Mr. Donovan told me you'd fallen over right in front of his eyes." Lee scratched his chin. That was not like his memory told him. "He brought you into the rectory where Father Adams took care of you. He is asleep at the moment and I'm afraid you have to put up with me for the time being. I'm Father Walker." One didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to know that there was something off. Why would a small chapel need two priests, but it seemed as though the priest read his mind. "Father Adams fetched a cold, so I took over his duties as a replacement." Once more Lee twitched, uncomfortable, with his shoulder, shifting his eyes so he looked straight at Father Walker. To add more odds Lee felt around this man like a little child.

"I thank you for the hospitality. Lee Smith's the name." The hand he reached over to the priest was grabbed by the other man who had bony fingers. Like a skeleton and upon touching them, Lee nearly thought they would be cold but they weren't.

"Again Mr. Donovan told me beforehand: You're a detective according to his word." Dragging his hand back, Lee slid on the bedside and the priest folded his hands back on his lap. "I don't want to be curious but considering your accent, you're not British. Is this correct?" For a normal tourist it was more than strange to mention that he was a detective and Lee couldn't blame him for being cautious as well.

"It is. I would show you my badge but I got mugged." A frustrated sigh passed his lips, hands rubbing over his face, wisely not telling that he got lost and _then_ mugged. More stabs and his ego would look like Swiss cheese.

"So you're a lost sheep, my son." It was nearly frightening how this man was able to read him like an open book and to crown all this it was alien to be called 'my son' from a person who was perhaps only ten years older than Lee himself.

"Considering that I'm stranded on the outskirts of Glasgow without money in the middle of the night, yes. I guess everyone would be lost in some sort of way." When a man's pride was attacked, a man would defend it; however the detective wasn't a person with a bad temper. The good cop so to speak.

"And you were guided into the Lord's domain. Nothing is coincidence, my son. God has a destiny for all of us prepared and you are here, because you're lost and seek guidance." The smile on Father Walker's face didn't reach his eyes. It felt artificial and Lee often enough knew how to distinguish a true smile from a faked one. What had the priest in mind with those questions? The least Lee was now in need of was some religious sermon.

"Hey, no offense Father but preaching is really not hitting a nerve for me." Firmly but still friendly he made it clear that it was a waste of breath trying to deliver the word of God to him. "I'm really grateful for your help but I don't believe in God or any great plan of his. You're not going to change it, so I don't want to waste your time." To also not appear too aggressive, Lee raised his hands soothingly, however the eyes of the priest slightly narrowed for a second; but were then again expressionless, like a mask of friendliness.

"Detective..." Father Walker leaned a bit forward, staring straight into Lee's eyes, smiling again that smile which didn't reach the eyes. "...a tourist who travels in the night into the outskirts where there is nothing interesting to see, one could think you're searching for something specific, may it be intentional or unintentional, though. I'm not here to judge you in any way. It is my holy duty to offer you shelter, physically and psychically. Don't be afraid. _Tell me the reason why you came to East Fulton_." Lee didn't know what came over him, but he felt the urge – no the desire – to tell the priest the truth which he'd wanted to keep to himself and the police department in Richmond.

"I felt that someone or something was watching me and I jumped on a random bus in Glasgow which took me to East Fulton. At the bus stop I was beaten down and mugged. After waking up I felt this strange feeling again while I searched for help and now it's gone." Frowning, it came now into his mind that this feeling of paranoia was gone when he was approaching the chapel; however Father Walker leaned back, his smile broadening and now actually looked for the first time genuine.

"Often the eyes don't see what instinct can. As a policeman you know this of course, but also the instincts accept what the mind doesn't." Silence hung in the room, with both men staring at each other. The detective like a lectured child and the priest like the lecturing father, letting some seconds pass until Lee broke the silence.

"I'm sorry I don't believe in God, Father." He shook his head, leaning back and propping his hands up on the mattress.

"But you are here because of a feeling. I'm sure it will all make sense at some point. That you journeyed into Scotland and Glasgow to reveal something important for yourself." Those words made Lee chuckle in amusement. Of course it was only coincidence and he was sure, that the priest was a person with a good insight into human nature.

"Actually I'm not a tourist. I'm here to work. I don't know if the news here reported about the murders in Richmond, that they have a striking resemblance to your Bible John." The media knew he was here, so it wasn't a big state secret; anyway this time Father Walker was silent for a few seconds, like he was thinking.

"Yes, I remember...Bible John. What a poor, misguided soul hunting the city. Another dark chapter of Glasgow but where a lot of light is, there are many shadows. Watch the shadows close, detective." Once more Lee frowned upon those strange words. Letting his head hang down a bit but with a smile. Give him his due. Father Walker was a faithful man and perhaps it was the last reason for this man to bear every new day, being deadly sick.

"I'll be on my guard from now on, especially watching for things trying to hit my head." As opposed to his dialogue partner, Lee chuckled again about his own joke.

"Please keep those words in mind and don't use only your eyes. I thank you for the conversation, Detective Smith and I'll let you rest now. You can use this mobile telephone to make any important call you need right now." Reaching for a drawer, father Walker took out the said cell, handing it over and was a slight relief that the priest wanted to go and it wouldn't come to Lee's mind to stop him as he raised himself from the chair.

"I have to thank you again for the hospitality and help, Father, even if I'm not a good Christian." Once more the artificial smile showed up on the blond man's face.

"Don't worry. As I said: I'm sure everything will unfold in time, even faith. Good night, detective." And as soon as he went through the door and closed it, Lee fell on his back and sighed, sliding back under the blanket. His first call was of course to his department to report the lost badge. Gladly he could identify himself with his internal ID-number which was only known to the department for such a case and not stated anywhere on the list of stolen goods. With this done, Lee closed his eyes, slowly succumbing to relaxing sleep, only slightly remembering that he forgot to call someone important besides the department.

* * *

Everything was just like the Bishop expected. As he left the room where Detective Smith was dwelling for this night, he allowed himself to let out an angry snarl, fangs bared. It was a warning from the Archbishop; furthermore it was also a trap. A sling which was slowly tightening on his neck and he couldn't avoid it. It was now clear: McKinnon wanted to get rid of him. It was a sin to socialize with humans without wanting to feed upon them but for the Bible John case he _needed_ to be in touch with the kine from now on. That he'd set foot into the same building during his own presence could be considered a danger to the Masquerade. On top of it, there seemed to be a lack of sense of duty in his Ostiary, those who controlled the boarders of his domain. They didn't mention a newcomer to it. He would take care of it soon. They shall know that he doesn't tolerate treason in his ranks.

His hands brushed shortly over the fold of his cassock and Bishop Walker strode to seek out his childe. As long as the night would last he needed to continue with his plans as if nothing happened; however there were slight adjustments to make. Detective Lee Smith would play a larger role in them than planned and he would place the sling on McKinnon's neck. It was only a question of what the Bishop was willing to sacrifice and he was willing to sacrifice a lot for gaining what he wanted and what was rightfully his by God's will.

* * *

AN: Did I mention Vivienne? She's getting officially now the badge of badassery, asking armed to the teeth cops about their IDs what happens when a badge is stolen and so on. I would have crawled into my place with a blanket on my head, but she even got out when things stirred up. But, please my dear, be careful!


End file.
